


A Life in Your Shape

by Dragonsandducks



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Class Differences, F/M, Fluff and Angst and Humor, M/M, Mentions of the events of The Hobbit, Mutual Pining, Pining, Semi-Period Typical Homophobia, Sort Of, You're Welcome, not much and not outwardly, you're getting EVERYTHING here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsandducks/pseuds/Dragonsandducks
Summary: Sam Gamgee is a gardener. Frodo Baggins is the heir to his uncle’s fortune.Sam is in love with Frodo, and Frodo is in love with Sam, and neither one has the faintest idea of the others’ feelings.[A Jane Austen style regency-era-ish AU! inspired bythis post.]
Relationships: Diamond Took/Pippin Took, Estella Bolger/Merry Brandybuck, Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 24
Kudos: 56





	1. The Garden

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Strawberry Blond" by Mitski.
> 
> so! here I am with another chapter fic. we all know I have a history of not finishing these, so please, don't expect much.  
> I have a few things to go over here, so bear with me:
> 
> What can you expect from this fic?
> 
> \- pining  
> \- absolutely no regency era accuracy. seriously I don't know anything about the regency era. it's more about the Austen style than the setting.  
> \- a pride & prejudice style subplot  
> \- no elves, dwarves, or humans here. just hobbits. except they're not hobbits, because I am still half-assing the regency thing.
> 
> uh... that's it! without further ado, enjoy this fic!

People say that it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Unfortunately, this was not true of Frodo Baggins.

* * *

It was midsummer, the cusp of July, and Samwise Gamgee was working in the Baggins’ garden. It was large, and occupied nearly the entire space behind Bag End. Flowers and produce of all kinds grew there, and Sam took care of them all, just like his father had before his retirement.

Sam wiped the sweat from his brow. Despite his gardening hat, the heat was merciless upon him, and he was focusing intensely to prevent himself from fainting right then and there. Not only would that be unprofessional, but it would be terribly embarrassing— especially because Frodo Baggins was standing not four feet away from him, watering the carnations. 

“They’re lovely this time of year, aren’t they?” Frodo asked, putting his watering can aside to admire the pale green blooms. 

Sam nodded, straightening to look at Frodo. “You really don’t need to help me, Mister Frodo,” he said. “It’s unbecoming of you, my father says.”

Frodo just smiled, picking up his watering can again. “I couldn’t care less about how becoming I am,” he said, glancing unconsciously to the window looking into his Uncle’s kitchen. “And besides, I enjoy helping you.” He watched as Bilbo puttered about, seeming to have misplaced the tea kettle (again). 

“It’s hard work, Mister Frodo,” Sam said, carefully pruning the red roses. “That’s why Mister Bilbo pays me to do it.”

Frodo gently plucked one of the carnations, and after a moment of deliberation, stuck it behind his ear and into his unruly hair. “I suppose,” Frodo said loosely. He looked into the window to see that Bilbo had apparently found the kettle, and it was now sitting on the stove. Bilbo was sitting, reading a newspaper, waiting for the water to boil.

Gently, Frodo nudged Sam’s shoulder, breaking him out of his trance. Sam loved gardening, but it always seemed to make his mind wander. 

“You should join me and Uncle Bilbo for tea,” Frodo offered. “You’ve been working all morning. I’m sure he’s made enough.” 

Sam shook his head. “I have work to do, Mister Frodo.”

“My uncle won’t mind at all. He likes you.”

“It isn’t your uncle I worry about,” Sam said, standing and holding the shears at his side. “It’s everyone else. I’m not meant to be sharing tea with my employer, y’ see.”

Frodo frowned slightly. “Alright,” he finally conceded. “But you’re welcome to come and join us if your mind changes.”

Sam watched him as he left the garden, tempted to join after all. Frodo stopped at the door and turned, and Sam cast his eyes down before Frodo could see him staring.

When he looked back up, Frodo was inside, the door swinging shut behind him. 

Sam sighed. “You’re hopeless, Samwise Gamgee,” he muttered, taking up his shears. “Absolutely hopeless.” 

* * *

Sam was done with work just before sundown. Frodo hadn’t returned since going in for tea, and Sam assumed he was lost in a book as usual. Frodo had a love of reading, helped by his uncle’s extensive library. Some of the volumes were even written by Bilbo himself, recounting old friendships and adventures he’d gone on before getting too old to do much adventuring anymore. 

Those volumes were Sam’s favorites. He’d borrowed them from Bilbo’s library on more occasions than he could count, and Bilbo was happy to constantly loan out other books to Sam. Sometimes, Frodo would buy a second copy of a book Bilbo already owned, and Sam would borrow the other, and they would read them and discuss together as they gardened. 

He wondered what his father would say, if he found out that he was gardening  _ with _ one of the Baggins rather than  _ for _ them. 

Hamfast Gamgee, like most in the Shire, had a strict idea about how things should be done, especially between those of high status and those of low status. 

The Baggins fell into the first category. The Gamgees were in the second. 

Even so, the Baggins weren’t always as high as they were now. Some years ago, Bilbo had been convinced to go on an expedition by an old friend. Bilbo had written all about the journey and the excitement of the trip, but most importantly, he had come back far more wealthy than any other single person in the Shire. 

_ The Baggins Fortune _ , they called it— some with contempt, others with admiration. Sam didn’t really care much about the riches Bilbo had earned on his journey. No, Sam had read Bilbo’s account of the quest more times than any other book. It was exciting, sure, but most importantly, it was  _ real _ . It was the kind of thing that could happen to Sam, though he doubted anything close to it would ever happen to him. 

He was a Gamgee. He wasn’t made for adventuring, he was made to garden and to cook and to clean. 

Sam was destined for a subdued life, destined to marry and have children until he couldn’t any longer. Then he would retire and die. 

It was a grim image. Sam didn’t anticipate it at all. 

Unfortunately, all his father seemed to be able to talk about these days was marriage and proposals. 

“Better get a move on, Sam,” he’d say. “Soon all the pretty girls’ll be taken.”

What was Sam supposed to say? That he had no interest in marriage, at least, not one with a woman? That he would rather die than lead the life his father had led, just letting the streams of time and the expectations of everyone around him drag him on?

No, Sam wasn’t going to be a very good Gamgee at all, he was afraid. He had five siblings who had done that just fine. 

* * *

“Oi, Sam! Wait up!”

Sam turned as he left Bag End, stopping just outside the front fence, hearing a familiar voice call out. Pippin Took was running full-speed towards him, a smile across his face. Pippin was a cousin and friend of Frodo’s, a close friend of Sam’s, and the heir to the prestigious Took family. 

It was a wonder, really, just how many heirs Sam considered his close friend. 

Pippin was out of breath by the time he stopped in front of Sam, his loose shirt waving slightly in the wind. “You finished with work?”

“For today,” Sam answered, looking at Pippin with creased brows. “Are you okay, Mister Pippin?”

“Sam,” Pippin said, pausing to gasp for breath, “I have told you many times—” he took another deep gulp of air— “to just call me Pippin.” 

As usual, Sam ignored the remark entirely, his father’s voice echoing in his head and saying something along the lines of  _ it ain’t proper _ . 

“Where’s your cousin?” Sam asked, glancing around as though he expected Merry to hop out of a nearby bush. Wherever Pippin went, Merry wasn’t usually far behind. The two had a habit of causing trouble, though being heirs, that barely dented their reputation. 

“Off being a suitor,” Pippin scoffed. “Marriage. What a waste of time.”

“You’ll have to be married someday soon, you know,” Sam said, not thinking about how the same could be said for himself.

Pippin waved his hand. “Pish,” he said. “If I ever fall in love—” here he paused to mime gagging— “I expect you to cut my head off with those shears of yours.”

“I won’t be damaging my shears for that, thank you very much.” 

“What are you even good for?” Pippin teased, leaning on Sam’s shoulder. He jumped up, remembering something. “There’s going to be a debutante ball at the party field tomorrow,” he said. “You should come. Merry and Frodo and I will all be going. It’ll be fun.” 

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “My father’s already forcing me to go,” he said. “Wants me to meet a girl.” 

“Is he still pushing for you to court that Rosie Cotton?” Pippin asked. Pippin, being Sam’s closest friend (aside from Frodo) knew all about his attractions, and lack thereof for women. “She’s a nice girl, isn’t she?”

“She’s lovely,” Sam said truthfully. “I just don’t want to marry her.” 

“Yes, well, if you had to choose a girl…” Pippin trailed off, letting Sam finish the sentence on his own. Seeing the blank, faraway look on Sam’s face, Pippin knocked their shoulders together playfully. “But enough about that,” he said. “It’s getting late. Frodo’ll be wondering where I am, and your father wondering about you.”

Sam groaned. “I’m already late,” he bemoaned. “He’s going to be upset.” 

“Better getting running then, yeah?” Pippin said, opening the gate to Bag End. “Tell him it was my fault.”

“I will,” Sam said, starting off. 

He heard the gate close as Pippin entered the Bag End grounds. “See you at the field tomorrow!” Pippin called after him. 

Sam waved in response and tried not to look as queasy as he felt.


	2. The Party Tree

Sam pulled at the collar of his jacket. It was tight and stifling, and he absolutely despised it. He had half a mind to burn it once the dance was done, but the thought of his father’s reaction held him back. 

“Ah! Sam!” Frodo rushed up to Sam, sloshing some of the champagne in his glass. “You’ve finally arrived.” They were standing at the edge of the party field, a few feet away from the main area of the ball— the dance floor.

Sam greeted Frodo, looking over the crowd. He was afraid to step into it and get swept away. “I didn’t realize the party would be so…” he trailed off, unsure of the word to use.

“Wild?” Frodo grinned. He took a sip of champagne, then offered the glass to Sam. “Would you like any?”

“No thank you,” Sam said. Something seemed off about Frodo, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. “Have you seen Merry and Pippin?”

Frodo nodded. “Merry was with us until he ran into a girl he knew, and they’ve been dancing ever since. Her name was… Esme? I can’t recall,” Frodo said airily. “And Pippin was with me, but I’ve completely lost track of him.”

At that moment, Sam realized what seemed so odd about Frodo. “Mister Frodo,” he began gently, “are you drunk?”

Laughing, Frodo shook his head. “Just tipsy,” he promised, though his managing to lose track of both his cousins told Sam otherwise. “I’ve only had two drinks. Perhaps three.” 

Noticing the table next to them, Sam pulled out a chair. “Do you want to sit down, Mister Frodo?”

“No,” Frodo said, sitting down. “Oh, Sam, I don’t want to get married,” he sighed, putting down his champagne and leaning on his hand. Sam discreetly moved the glass away from Frodo’s reach and sat down next to him. 

“Everyone gets married eventually, Mister Frodo.” 

“Not my uncle,” Frodo argued. “But somehow I’m supposed to be the one carrying on the Baggins line. If only I had as many siblings as you, Sam, I could be a perfectly respectable bachelor.” 

Sam glanced at the party, where he could make out a few of his siblings dancing wildly in the firelight. “You don’t want that, Mister Frodo.”

Frodo sighed again. “Maybe not.” He startled, coming back to himself. “You don’t need to worry for me, Sam. Go enjoy the party.” 

“Are you sure?” Sam asked nervously, taking in Frodo’s state. 

“Positively,” Frodo replied, waving Sam off. “Off with you,” he said gently. “You’ve got to find yourself a wife, yes?”

Sam glanced away. Despite their closeness, Sam had never told Frodo about his attraction to men. He always feared that admitting it would lead to the admittance of a rather more distressing secret. 

“I should,” Sam said, standing. “My father’ll be proper mad if I don’t at least  _ try _ to act like a suitor.”

Frodo smiled. “Go on then,” he said. “And if you find Merry or Pippin, let them know that I’m alright, please.” 

“Of course,” Sam instantly replied. “You could always come join us, you know.” 

“I may,” Frodo replied. 

Sam said his farewell and dipped into the crowd. It was a mess of people, some dancing and others just talking, and he immediately felt terrified. 

“Oh, Sam!” a voice called out. Sam turned to find himself face to face with Rose Cotton. She was dressed up nicely in a large pink dress, a crown of roses in her hair. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“You have?” Sam asked. 

Rosie nodded. “I wanted to ask you to dance,” she said. “Would you like to?”

Sam didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he nodded and took her hands. “I’m sorry if I step on your toes,” he apologized as they began to spin around the dance floor. “I’m afraid I’m a rotten dancer.” 

“Nonsense,” Rosie laughed, “you’re doing very well!” 

Sam smiled. He may not have been interested in marriage with Rosie, but she was certainly a good friend. 

The pair danced past Hamfast, who looked on in approval. “You look lovely,” Sam said to Rosie, trying desperately to remember how to flirt with a woman. 

“Thank you,” Rosie said, almost shyly. “This was my mother’s dress. She passed it on to me when I became an eligible suitor. She said it would attract good men.” At this, she looked meaningfully at Sam.

Sam swallowed, glancing down at his feet under the guise of checking his steps. “I would like to hope I’m a good man,” he said, but the flirtation sounded wrong on his tongue.

Rosie smiled at him. “You are.” 

The song ended, and the pair separated. Rosie opened her mouth, about to say something, when Pippin came over to them. 

“Samwise!” Pippin cried, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I’ve been looking for you all night. I—” He noticed Rosie and abruptly stopped. “Oh, are you in the middle of something?” 

Rosie replied before Sam could, and he said a silent blessing that she hadn’t let him say something that would make him look foolish. “We’d just finished,” she said. She waved at Sam. “Perhaps we can dance some more later.”

“I’d like that,” Sam said stupidly. Rosie disappeared into the crowd, and Sam let himself relax. Pippin whirled around to be in front of him. 

““I’d like that”?” he said incredulously. 

Sam turned scarlet. “What would you have me tell her, Mister Pippin? The truth?” he asked, crossing his arms. 

Pippin thought for a moment. “Good point,” he finally conceded, words slightly slurred. 

“Don’t tell me you’re sloshed too,” Sam scolded. 

“Sloshed? No. Tipsy? Yes,” Pippin said. He took a step back and immediately bumped into a woman, knocking the both of them over. They cried out as they fell to the wooden floor. 

“Pippin!” Sam cried, forgetting himself for a moment. 

The woman Pippin had fallen with had sat up and was glaring daggers at Pippin, who looked at her with a sheepish smile. 

“My apologies,” Pippin tried. He stood and offered a hand to help the woman up, but she rejected it, standing on her own and wiping the dirt from her silvery gown. 

“Are you alright?” Sam asked her. 

The woman growled. “Perfectly fine, no thanks to your friend.” 

“I’ve said sorry!” Pippin cried. 

“Perhaps you should watch where you’re going,” the woman snapped, voice raising. 

Sam stepped between the two, trying to quell the budding fight. He could see people watching them, including Rosie. “It was an honest mistake,” he said. 

The woman noticed the scene she was making and took a deep breath. “Yes, well,” she said, “see that it doesn’t happen again.” She stuck her nose in the air and walked off. 

Rosie rushed over to Sam and Pippin, voice a whisper. “Do you know who that was?” she asked, in a gossiping tone. 

“No, why?” Pippin replied, looking irked at the mystery woman’s attitude. 

“That was Diamond of Long Cleeve!” Rosie whispered sharply. 

Pippin’s face went pale. “Oh.” 

“Oh?” Sam asked. 

“Diamond is from one of the highest families in the Shire,” Rosie explained.

“Oh,” Sam said. 

Rosie nodded eagerly. “I just can’t believe this,” she said. Another girl called out her name, and Rosie turned. “I’ve gotta go,” she said to Sam, before rushing off again.

“Well, now look what you’ve gone and done, Mister Pippin, disrespecting a woman like that,” Sam cried, turning to Pippin with his hands on his hips.

Pippin threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “It was an accident!” 

Sam sighed. “This night seems to be going terribly for everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Pippin said, pointing to Merry. The Brandybuck was staring starry-eyed at a woman, who seemed to be laughing at something he’d said. “Merry’s had a crush on Estella since we were young. Now he’s courting her.” Pippin scoffed at the last sentence.

Sam shook his head. “Perhaps I should head home early,” he mumbled. 

“It feels like you just got here,” Pippin said, frowning. 

“Well, I’ve had enough excitement for one night,” Sam argued. “I’ll check on Mister Frodo, and then I’ll go home.” 

“Alright then,” Pippin said. “See you tomorrow, Sam!” 

Sam waved at him, ducking into the crowd and making his way back to the table where he’d left Frodo. But the Baggins heir was gone, his half-drunk glass of champagne abandoned on the table. 

“Suppose he’s headed home,” Sam sighed to himself. “At least I hope so.” 

He left the party behind, walking home and feeling utterly empty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everybody! 
> 
> I'm trying a few new things in terms of writing with this fic. First, I hopefully have an update schedule, which is every Wednesday. However, I'm trying not to post a chapter until the two after it are ready, just so I have a bit of backup. 
> 
> This fic should, still, update every Wednesday. But I might skip a week sometimes if I don't have time to get a chapter done. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and all the kind comments! :)


	3. Across Hobbiton

The garden was thriving, and Sam let his mind wander as he took care of it. There were many things he had to think about, though he didn’t _want_ to think about most of them.

It had been two days since the ball at the party field, and Sam and Hamfast’s conversations had been tense ever since. Hamfast wasn’t subtle about how much he wanted Sam to officially court Rose Cotton, and Sam was running out of excuses for not doing so. 

Frodo hadn’t come out to the garden in the past two days. In fact, Sam had barely seen him since the party. Sam wondered if he’d said something wrong, if he’d been too close. Or perhaps Frodo had found a woman to court after all. 

Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Frodo, married and happy. Sam wanted to think that as long as Frodo was happy, he could be happy too. But the thought of Frodo being happy without him made his stomach flip. 

“Good morning, Sam.” 

_Speak of the devil,_ Sam thought. Frodo Baggins was standing in front of him with a folded napkin in his hands. 

“Morning, Mister Frodo,” Sam greeted, not bothering to hide his relieved smile. “What have you got there?” he asked, nodding at the napkin. 

Frodo seemed startled, like he forgot the napkin was even there. “Right,” he said, “I brought it for you.” He unwrapped the napkin to reveal a small pastry. “You’ve been working hard all morning. I thought perhaps you were hungry.”

Sam tried not to blush as he put down his shears and took the napkin. “Thank you, Mister Frodo. That’s very kind of you.”

“Sam,” Frodo said suddenly. “You really don’t have to call me “Mister Frodo” all the time. Just Frodo is perfectly fine.” 

Taking a bite of the pastry, Sam looked down. “I know, Mister Frodo,” he said after swallowing. “I just want to be proper, is all.” 

“You don’t have to be,” Frodo said. “You can be as improper as you like around me, Sam. You’re my closest friend.” 

_Friend._ Because that was all they were, wasn’t it? _Just friends_ , Sam thought. 

“It’s kind of you to say,” Sam said quietly, “but I can’t.” 

Frodo frowned deeply, his eyes clouded with thought. He opened his mouth as though he were about to say something, but then closed it again. Finally, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam.” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

Sam watched as he turned around and went back to Bag End. The door closed, and Sam fell to a sitting position among the flowers.

He ate his pastry and tried not to think about the way Frodo had been looking at him. 

* * *

Pippin couldn’t stop thinking about Diamond. 

It was foolish, really. She obviously hated him, that much was clear. And he felt like he hated her too. 

But there were no other girls in the Shire like her. No other girls so bold, so smart, so outspoken. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes. They were a fiery blue, and Pippin had half a mind to paint his room that color, just so he could always be around it. 

With a sigh, Pippin sat down on a bench in the park. He was lovestruck. 

It was his worst nightmare come true. 

Then Diamond sat down next to him. _That_ was the nightmare come true. 

He couldn’t help but look at her, though she kept her gaze straight ahead at the park. Her parasol was folded in her lap. 

Pippin looked at her eyes. They were just as blue as he remembered. 

“I’d like to apologize,” Diamond began haltingly, “for my behavior at the debutante ball.”

“No need to apologize—” Diamond held up a hand to stop Pippin. 

“I was rude,” she said. “I know you meant no harm.” 

Pippin’s heart leapt up into his throat. Did this mean, then, that she’d been thinking about him as much as he was thinking about her?

“I’m glad we could work things out,” Pippin said. 

Diamond nodded, still not looking at Pippin. “Me too,” she said. Her parasol snapped open, and she stood. 

Pippin wanted to ask her to take a walk with him, but she was already walking away. 

He cursed himself violently as soon as she was out of earshot. 

* * *

Sam returned home late that night. He hung up his hat and startled, noticing his father sitting at the table. Waiting for him. 

“Father,” Sam said calmly. He took a seat across from Hamfast, heart beating so loudly he was sure his father could hear it. 

“Samwise,” his father replied. “I noticed that you weren’t taking action with the Cotton girl.” 

_No. Oh no._ Sam’s heart began to beat even louder, the sound nearly drowning out his father’s next words. 

“I’ve set up a meeting between the two of you. To discuss courtship.” 

Sam leapt from his chair. “You can’t just do that!” he cried. 

“You need to be married, Samwise,” his father said, like it was as simple as that. “I won’t have you living as a bachelor your whole life like old Baggins.”

“Da—” 

“You’ll be going to that meeting, son,” Hamfast said sternly. “Unless you’ve found another girl to court?”

Sam felt his hands curling and uncurling. “No,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean that you get to decide who I marry! I’ll be stuck with them my whole life! And if I don’t love her, then what? How are you going to force me to have children, exactly?”

Hamfast’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like your tone.”

Sam knew, logically, that he should stop talking before he made things exponentially worse, but his mouth and his heart were moving impossibly fast. “I don’t like _you_ taking over my life! Grandad surely didn’t court mother for you!”

There was a flash of anger in Hamfast’s eyes, and Sam took an instinctive step back. He shut his mouth tight, forcing himself not to open it until he was sure of what he would say. 

“You’ll be going to that meeting,” Hamfast said coldly. “And you’ll be courting Rose Cotton.” 

Sam almost didn’t say anything else, but he was feeling particularly bold. “You can’t make me,” he snapped, and he stormed off to his bedroom, not seeing the shocked expression on his father’s face.

* * *

Bilbo was reading in the study when Frodo entered tentatively. “Uncle Bilbo,” he began shakily, “what would you say if I told you I wanted to stay a bachelor?” He paused a moment. “Like you?” 

Bilbo looked up from his book. Then he turned his chair. “Sit down, Frodo,” he said, bookmarking his place and putting the book on his desk. Frodo sat across from him, shoulders tense. 

“My dear nephew,” Bilbo said, “I won’t force you to get married if it isn’t what you want.” 

Frodo breathed a sigh of relief. 

“But,” Bilbo began, and Frodo tensed up again, “I do think it would be good for you to at least try courting someone.” Bilbo leaned forward, folding his arms across his knees. “It can be lonely, being a bachelor,” Bilbo continued. “I am lucky to have you in my life, Frodo, luckier than any other uncle in the Shire.”

“And I am luckier than any nephew,” Frodo said. 

Bilbo smiled warmly at him. “I just want you to be happy, Frodo,” he said. “If being a bachelor will make you happy, you should be a bachelor. And if marriage will make you happy, you should be married.” Bilbo rose and strode over to Frodo’s chair, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s your choice, my dear boy.” 

Frodo nodded. Bilbo pulled him into a hug, and Frodo returned it. As Bilbo pulled away, Frodo stood.

“Thank you, Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo said quietly. “I think I’ll go to bed now.” 

“Alright,” Bilbo said. “But know you can talk about anything with me.” 

Frodo paused, hand hovering over the handle of the study door. “I know,” he said. Then he was alone in the hall. 

There was much to think about as he laid in bed. Did he want to be a bachelor? Perhaps. Did he want marriage? Yes. But he couldn’t be married to the person he really wanted to spend his life with. 

How could you marry a man who was already courting a woman?

Frodo sighed. He laid awake for hours, mind turning and turning, before he fell into an uneasy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s about the PINING
> 
> my school just returned to hybrid classes, so there might be a longer wait between chapters from now on.
> 
> EDIT: no update for 1/27. sorry about that!


	4. Bagshot Row

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand I’m back! 
> 
> school’s been a bit more challenging than I was expecting, so chapters will probably be coming every other week, at the least.

Merry had been listening to Pippin’s complaints for the better part of an hour, and he was beginning to get tired. The pair was sitting just outside Bag End, on a small bench under a tree, though at this point “lying” was a better word for what Merry was doing. 

“She acts like she’s so much better than me! It’s insulting!” Pippin cried, incensed. 

Merry wondered idly what Estella was doing. It was probably much more interesting. He wished he was there, and not just because it was where the woman he was courting was. 

And still, Pippin was talking about Diamond. “She was so rude!”

“So you’ve mentioned,” Merry deadpanned. “Pip, if you hate her so much, why are you so obsessed with her?”

“Who said I hated her?” Pippin asked. 

“You’ve called her insulting, rude, stuck-up, spoiled, and arrogant. And that was only in the last five minutes,” Merry listed. 

Pippin sighed. “Yes, but I don’t  _ hate _ her.”

“You are incorrigible,” Merry said, standing. 

Pippin leaned forward. “Where are you going?”

“To find Estella.” Merry turned to look at Pippin. “Perhaps Diamond will be with her. They’re friends, you know.” Pippin said nothing, looking slightly confused. “I’m asking if you want to come.”

At that, Pippin shot up. “Sure!” Seeing Merry smirking at his eagerness, he quickly backtracked. “I mean, only because I have to properly meet the girl you’re courting. Not because I want to see Diamond.”

“Of course,” Merry said. “But you don’t hate her.”

Pippin grinned. “Now you’re getting it.”

* * *

Sam Gamgee was sitting in his house with Rosie Cotton for a romantic dinner. Hamfast had left, and shooed away all of Sam’s siblings, so it was just him and Rosie. 

It was terrifying.

“Aren’t you going to eat something?” Rosie asked, concerned. Sam had spent the whole dinner either deflecting Rosie’s questions (especially the courting-related ones) or picking idly at his food. 

Sam looked down at his plate, as though just realizing how full it still was. “I’m not much hungry.”

Rosie frowned. “Sam, is something bothering you?” she asked. “If there’s another girl, you can tell me. I won’t be hurt. I’d be more hurt if you were seeing her while trying to court me.”

“It’s not that,” Sam said immediately. “Really, I’d never do that to you, Rosie.”

“Then what is it?” Rosie had pushed her plate away, all her attention focused on Sam, who was shrinking under the scrutiny. 

Sam opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He didn’t know what to say. 

Rosie was looking at him with so much concern, so much  _ caring _ — she was a kind friend, a good person, she was  _ understanding _ —

“I’m sorry,” Sam said suddenly. His mind was racing, along with his heart, but his mouth was even faster. “I’m not interested in women.” 

For a moment, the room was perfectly still. Sam, red-faced, was frozen in his chair, and Rosie seemed caught off guard. 

“Oh,” Rosie said. 

“Oh?” Sam asked. 

“Well, I’m not going to pretend I’m entirely surprised,” Rosie said, returning to normal like nothing had happened. Sam cautiously took a sip of water, his throat dry. “I mean, we’ve all seen the way you look at Frodo Baggins—“

Sam choked on his water. “It’s not that,” he said hurriedly. 

“Alright,” Rosie said disbelievingly. 

Sam sat quietly for a moment. “Are you upset?” 

At that, Rosie’s eyebrows furrowed. “Upset?” she asked. “It isn’t your fault, Samwise. I know your father— well, he’s a traditional man, is all.” 

Mutely, Sam nodded, though he wasn’t sure why. “But I’ve led you on?” he said, confused. 

Rosie’s lips quirked. “Samwise,” she began. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Sam watched as she took a long sip of water. “You are a good friend, but I have no interest in marrying you. This is simply a way to get my father to stop pestering me. Clearly it’s the same for you.” 

Sam felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he could breathe again. “You’re a wonderful friend, Rosie,” Sam said truthfully. 

“I know,” Rosie said, grinning. 

* * *

“Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo murmured, sitting down across from him at the table. Bilbo glanced up to see Frodo staring at his hands, which were shaking minutely.

Bilbo sipped at his tea. “What is it, Frodo?” he asked with a smile. 

Frodo took a deep breath. “I think I want to leave the Shire,” he said quietly. He still wouldn’t look Bilbo in the eyes, but Bilbo could see the troubled expression on his face all the same. 

“Well, my boy,” Bilbo began carefully, “do you mean permanently?”

Slowly, Frodo shook his head. “I want to go on an adventure,” he admitted, “like you, Uncle Bilbo.” He seemed to redden as he said it.

Even though the words weren’t entirely unexpected, Bilbo frowned. “It’s a dangerous business, Frodo,” he said. 

“Do you regret it?” Frodo asked, finally locking eyes with Bilbo. The blue irises seemed to burn into Bilbo’s mind, seeking something deep within him. 

For a moment, Bilbo could only look at Frodo’s eyes. Then, he began to speak. “I suppose not,” he said, tilting his head. “It certainly left me well off. But there are some things about it that I cannot forget…” he trailed off, lost in memory. 

Bilbo shook away the dark thoughts. “It is not as pleasant as my stories make it seem, Frodo.”

“Oh.” Frodo returned to looking at his hands. “Perhaps… perhaps I should think about it a bit longer, then.” Frodo looked up at Bilbo. “Thank you, Uncle Bilbo.” 

Bilbo smiled. “Of course, my boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are always appreciated!


	5. Tuckborough

Sam was in the garden again when Frodo came to join him, a contemplative expression on his face. Concerned, Sam looked up from his work and turned to Frodo. “Are you alright, Mister Frodo?”

Frodo nodded idly, not looking directly at Sam. “I’ve been thinking about leaving,” Frodo admitted quietly. 

“Leaving?” Sam asked, eyes wide. “Leaving the Shire, you mean?”

Finally looking Sam in the eyes, Frodo nodded. “I am not sure yet,” he said, “but I am giving it a great deal of thought.”

“Oh,” Sam said, voice just above a whisper. 

Frodo was biting his lip, staring at Sam, who suddenly felt like he couldn’t look Frodo in the eyes. He didn’t  _ want _ Frodo to leave, not when this may have been the best time for him to confess his love. Everything had seemed to be going so right…

Sam forced a smile, looking at Frodo. “I think you should do whatever would make you happy, Mister Frodo,” he said. “And if you decide to go, I’ll always be right here when you get back.”

Even after this, Frodo still looked unhappy, and Sam felt completely vexed. Sometimes, Sam felt that he and Frodo were living in two completely different worlds. Try as he might, he was often unable to discern Frodo’s thoughts. Had he said the wrong thing?

Finally, Frodo gave a soft smile. “Thank you, Sam,” he said. “I… I think I still need to decide what makes me happy.” 

Frodo turned to leave, and Sam wanted to say something, beg him not to go. Sam wanted to tell Frodo that a life without Frodo would be, for him, a life without meaning. He wanted to tell Frodo how much he loved him, how much he cared for him, how much he truly wanted them to be happy—  _ together _ .

But Sam said nothing. He watched Frodo enter Bag End, and stood frozen to the ground for a long, long while. 

He didn’t get home until late that night. 

* * *

Frodo didn’t know what he was expecting. He had fantasized, perhaps unrealistically, that Sam would ask him to stay. He wanted to see if Sam felt about him the same way that he felt about Sam. He wanted— he wanted  _ Sam. _

But obviously, he couldn’t have Sam. Sam was courting Rosie, Sam had a father to impress, Sam had every right not to want him. 

And Frodo had expectations to live up to, too. He was going to inherit a fortune. Marriage was the expectation. Even if Bilbo had managed to avoid it, Frodo imagined that, had Bilbo not taken him in, the bachelor would have spent his life terribly lonely.

Frodo did not want to spend his life alone in a large home. 

There was no way around it, he supposed. Marriage would come for Sam, and it would have to come for him. It was like a plague. 

Frodo sighed, falling into a soft chair. 

There was much to think about. 

* * *

Pippin nearly fell over his own feet as he left his house. Diamond was talking with a friend just across the street, her laughter ringing out like a bell. Immediately, Pippin was struck with indecision. Should he go back inside and wait for her to pass? Should he go on as normal? Should he— God forbid—  _ talk _ to her?

Luckily, the decision was not left in Pippin’s hands, as Diamond’s friend (Rosie Cotton, as it would seem) turned, noticed him, and waved him over to join their conversation. Pippin, seeing little other choice, crossed the street to join the duo. 

“Good morning, Peregrin!” Rosie said cheerfully. 

Diamond nodded cordially at him in the place of a greeting. 

“Good morning, ladies,” Pippin said, trying desperately to appear casual and collected. “What brings you out to Tuckborough?”

Rosie grinned. “Diamond wanted me to show her the orchard. I told her we should wait for you, though. You know it better than anyone I know.”

For a moment, Pippin swore he saw a blush cross Diamond’s cheeks. He shook off the distraction. “Of course I can show you two around,” he said quickly. “That is, if it’s alright with you?” He turned to Diamond.

She hesitated a moment before nodding. “If you insist.”

Pippin smiled. “Allow me to lead the way, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your comments! <3
> 
> school is keeping me busy, so I can’t foresee this fic updating any time before.... probably April? at the least. sorry!

**Author's Note:**

> this is on track to be, by far, the longest fic i've ever written. i have a lot of feelings about this fic.
> 
> please comment! it makes me more likely to keep writing this!


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